


星期(_) [Days of the Week]

by jii_ne



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5556734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jii_ne/pseuds/jii_ne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki wears sweaters too often.<br/>Rated for implied mention of child abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	星期(_) [Days of the Week]

“It’s a bit hot today; isn’t it, Ken-kun?” **  
**

“Yes, teacher.”

“It seems like it will be warm throughout this week in the afternoons like yesterday. How about you play with your sweater off? I will hold onto it for you until break is over.”

* * *

Ken bows  in appreciation with novel placed flat against his abdomen; he politely shakes his head and brushes his fingers along the curve of his chin as the woman continues to eye him with concern so evident in her facade.

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine, teacher,” the boy smiles and excuses himself to a spot with shade to continue reading about the adventure of a young boy on a quest in territory unknown and uncharted.

Though he is undoubtedly one of the most well-mannered children in her care, the primary school teacher cannot help but keep tab on such a particular student. A mental note is made and tucked away in the side pocket of her busied mind as she is dragged off by the tips of her fingers to the display of an impressive makeshift home for insects made of grass mounds and leaves.

That evening, Ken is beneath a thin sheet in bed burning both moonlight and the battery power of a small flashlight in one hand as the other is occupied with the continued quest of his then-defeated protagonist.

He wishes he could provide the character the very same comfort he experiences in wholesome silence– the greatest playground for his boundless creativity a precursor to the very best dreams anyone should ever have.

If only he had enough of such comfort and time in his greatest escape to adequately spare.

* * *

On Tuesday, Kaneki has company.  
  
“For someone who reads a lot, you’re pretty dumb. Why don’t you check on the weather before dressing yourself in the morning? You’re gonna die by the afternoon,” a classmate leans against the wall with a ball tucked beneath his arm, wiping his face against the bottom hem of his shirt. “You must be one of those who doesn’t pay attention to a lot of things.”  
  
“Takes one to know one,” Ken murmurs beneath his breath, page of his book turned to continue onto the next chapter.

His peer is rolling up his own sleeve with eyes blown wide in sheer disbelief and potential anger.  
“What’d you just say, huh?”

It is then a girl with a high ponytail, straight-cut fringe and very little tolerance stomps forth and knocks the ball out of the boy’s grip, shaking her head. “Knock it off, Yori. Kaneki’s quiet enough as is. Just let him read or do whatever it is he does by himself all the time.”

Yori sneers with conspicuous lack of personal composure. “You, again? What’s it to you butting into stuff that isn’t even your business?”

“You can’t blame a guy for not wanting to talk with an idiot like you. Leave him alone before your head explodes.  
“You’re turning all red.”

* * *

Kaneki sits on cold tiles of the school restroom floor on Wednesday, red sweater cuffs stained with tears tainted and bitter with confusion and apologies he rehearses to no one or thing in particular.  
He flinches at the sound of knuckles knocking against dense wood just outside, though they too sound confused and apologetic on behalf of another.

Yori continues to tenderly press against his sore cheek, still in shock over the ordeal as he explains to his teacher he never anticipated pulling up Kaneki’s sleeves should result in his peer to become so upset.  
  
“…But teacher, is he sick?”  
  
“Sick?”

“Ken doesn’t wear anything but sweaters all the time even though it’s so hot–  
“–and he has a lot of marks and bruises on his arms…”

* * *

Thursday afternoon, Kaneki sits underneath the largest tree in the field and reads the first three ingredients of a white Calpico drink bottle blocking the view of his paragraph. His gaze lifts to find Yori with another bottle in his other hand and pressed against his left cheek.

“Do you like lychee?”

“Yori-kun…?”

“Or strawberry?” Yori offers, gently waving the pink bottle by his face. “That’s all I have at home; sorry.”

Kaneki blankly stares until Yori lets go of the cap between his knuckles and lets the drink slide down the center of his peer’s novel. “Just take it as my apology, okay? I didn’t mean to make you angry or anything… or get punched.”

Book now closed, Kaneki moves over to make room for his classmate at his spot beneath the tree. “Yeah, I’m… really, really sorry about punching you. I don’t know what came over me. How’s your cheek doing?”  
“It’s okay,” Yori leans against abrasive bark and breaks his cap seal. “It’s better, just a little swollen. You’re a lot stronger than I thought you are.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I mean it. It’s already bad enough everyone thinks I got beat up by the class bookworm, you know?”

“Yeah,” Kaneki unscrews the cap to his drink and smiles sheepishly against the plastic mouth.  
  
“You got it.”

* * *

On Friday morning, she pauses the scrawl of her pen as she writes “Kaneki Ken” on a weekly progress report slip.

The teacher sighs, tapping the end of the writing utensil upon a sticky-note pad to her right.

_**Call Kaneki household**_ , she writes in her agenda instead, and throws away the progress report slip as a crumpled ball of soft pink.

* * *

Saturday evening is the time of unleashing Kaneki’s imagination as he creates with his very hands civilizations and irrigation ways made of soil and sand in the local park not very far from home. 

As the sun sets and illuminates the sky and structures surrounding him with colors of its departure for rest in the night, Kaneki takes cue to wash away the evidence of his efforts from an afternoon well-spent.   
He dries his hands upon the sides of his pants and looks back to his miniature city to take note of what ways he may be able to improve the infrastructure of for the future. 

15 minutes later, he arrives home and neatly places his shoes on the rack by the apartment entrance as the door closes and separates the abode from the heat outside. 

The child hears the sound of approaching feet before he does his mother’s voice to welcome him. 

“Hello, mother; I’m back,” he bows with a smile and expectant of questions regarding his day.

Instead his mother leans against a wall with arms folded over her chest.

“Ken-kun, I received a concerned phone call from your teacher earlier today. She sounded like she wonders if I love my son.  
“Do you know how much love mother has for you?” 

“’As vast as the sky and the earth,’” the boy promptly replies, eyes wavering to resist looking away from the woman’s eyes. 

“What a good son I have,” his mother nods and turns on her heel to return to her work station of crafted paper petals and wires.  
“Such a good boy.”

Ken waits until she disappears behind a turn at the hall to tenderly run his sweating palms over his sleeves.

**Author's Note:**

> Children are wonderful with their imaginations and what to make of them.  
> To make healthy and beautiful imaginations to grow from and pass on things worthy of being known in the future, a healthy and beautiful reality to surround someone is important as well.  
> Be aware of things that may cripple the growth of what is good for them, and treat them well.


End file.
